As I Get Older, I Grow More Fond of My Back Fat

Let's Address Back Fat. It Happens At a Certain Age. Sometimes Even to Skinny People. Age, the Great Leveller.

So, if you didn’t already know, this blog is my really honest account of getting older. And you can’t talk about the impact of ageing on our bodies, if we don’t talk about he back-fat phenomenon. For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, I envy you, I really do, but stick around. I feel you may enjoy this anyway.

There comes a time when those with a bosom bigger than a B-cup start to notice the migration of their once-proud boob-mass. Something weird starts happening in your late thirties/early forties – your breasts no longer have the pertness they once enjoyed of course, and the fat that kept them succulently poised and proud, has now moved – like a medical miracle - to a new location, on your back.

From the Back. Who Knows How It Happens?

I don’t know if this is medically correct. I mean, I’m not a doctor, so I have to assume that it is not in any way accurate. But in my mind, the fat from your boobs, moves under the arms in channels, and gathers at the back in that delightful roll that the bra-strap emphasises with the zeal of a kid showing off their newly-learned cartwheel. “Look here, look here! Look at these little pockets of back-fat,” the bra strap shrieks.

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And before you know it, you start wearing loser-fit tops or covering up with a jacket or cardigan. Because while back fat is a reality for 80% of the female population, like everything else that isn’t idealised in a patriarchal society, we have to pretend that it doesn’t exist and that it’s all some failing on our own part, that we need to be embarrassed by or apologise for.

I did that once at a spa, years ago. I went for a back/neck massage and said, “sorry about the back fat, it’s new,” to the beauty technician. She laughed at me, appropriately, and told me that every one has it. She was a size 4, so I assume she was just being kind because I can’t believe for a minute she was including herself in that pot. But still. She saw a lot of backs, so I have to believe it was a little bit true.

Young Fat People - No Back Fat. Old Skinny People - Back Fat. So Why Don't You Just Enjoy Your Life?
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And now that I am in my fifties, I can assure you that nothing helps once it has begun. I made the mistake of embarking on the banting diet at some point, and it worked, as it does, until I decided I couldn’t live without bread, at which point I may as well have just eaten a row of cakes because weight returned with the fervour of a bush fire. But while I was slimmer, my boobs got even more saggy and the back fat remained strong and proud, clearly emphasised by my bra strap, as ever. Meh. What can you do?

So I embrace it. I see it as the brilliance of my youth, simply taking a back seat. My dazzle is still a part of me, but now it resides quietly, not taking the spotlight off the wonderful youngsters that will be our future, but providing gentle comfort when leaning up against an unforgiving wall or chair. Back fat is just a relocation of glory. And as such I am sentimentally fond of it and I will never apologise for it again.